


The Storm

by StarvingMe



Series: Inqed Words [13]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Armor, Drama, F/F, NSFW, Snuggling, angels fighting, angels should really only wage war in armor anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-27 00:05:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5025925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarvingMe/pseuds/StarvingMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Wordsmith and Cass return to the flat, they find more than just a pile of work waiting for them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zaidnovi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaidnovi/gifts).



The next day, the Inquisitor was packing her few small belongings, plopping herself onto the bed after wiggling herself into a pair of jeans. If Wordsmith had any doubts about how much she had wanted the angel, they were gone after watching that little display before she tugged on a shirt. Thick socks and heavy shoes were next and a warm sweater, the soft cloth covering the fresh bandages where Castiel had marked her with a different sigil, something smaller, more intricate, to hide her from the angels.

Castiel applying the new sigil was hard to sit through.  He had to cut slow enough to be exact, but fast enough not to cause excessive pain, and after just a short while, Wordsmith had to leave the room to keep from striking the angel.  She’d screamed and chomped down so hard, she bit through the hard leather they’d given her, but it had been a success, the new mark shielding her, at least temporarily, from Heaven’s sight.  They would find a way around it, he warned her, and she would have to be careful from here on out to avoid drawing attention to herself, but she was determined:  she would leave the bunker.

“So you’ll go on ahead,” she said, trying to tie her shoes with her one good hand, “apply the new sigils, and just call me when you’re ready for me to head over.”  She tried several times, shifting and twisting to get the laces tied before, with a chuckle, Wordsmith strode over to kneel at her feet, grasping the laces and tugging them tight, looping them as the angel continued with a sigh, “And while you’re doing that, I’m going to sit here quietly and wait until you call...  Even though I could make a supply run, you don’t have to get everything...  I am well-shielded now...”

“It’ll be safer,” Wordsmith said, turning her attention to her other shoe as Cass pouted, “if you just go straight to the flat.  No side-trips, no taking the scenic route, just straight there when I call for you, okay?”  She frowned at the sigh, those blue eyes looking away—she could swear it was like dealing with a child sometimes.  “Cass... Promise me you’ll do this.”

“Fine, fine,” she said, looking down at Wordsmith.  A small smile tugged at her lips as she reached out to lightly brush that raven hair out of her eyes, noting how tired she looked, those red eyes flashing as she watched the angel closely.  “I promise not to dally or wander about—straight to the flat once you call me.”

Her lips quirked into a small smile, placing a kiss to her knee before she moved to her feet, straightening her now-rumpled suit.  First on the list was a change of clothes for herself, and another for the angel.  As much as she admitted to liking the view of that tight denim hugging her hips and accentuating her long legs, she missed the skirts and light leggings that the angel always wore before...

Reaching down, she helped Cass get to her feet, careful of her injured arm before twining her fingers with the angel’s, giving her a gentle squeeze.  Smiling a little, she sighed, knowing she was going to be in for a long, brutal day with the King as soon as she got back, but she would make sure the angel was home safe and sound first.

 _Home._   It felt so strange to think about that.  She was taking the angel _home_.  There was such relief in those words, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like when this was all over, when the angel was hers to keep and free to stay...

Smiling a little at that thought, she made sure her few belongings were packed, notebooks, a couple of novels the younger Winchester had picked out for her, and the bag of clothes that Castiel had acquired for the angel.  The last thing she grabbed was the empty silver vial that rested on the bedside table, tucking it into her bag.  It would serve as a reminder of how close they’d come to losing everything.  She wanted to ask how long the angel’d had her grace, because it was  _hers_  and not some other poor angel, but she couldn’t bring herself to put it into words.  It was hard enough to think about how very close to death the angel had come and not just once now, but half a dozen times, at least.  She knew what had been at stake if things had gone badly, and she knew the angel had been scared of the consequences, but...

She shook her head a little, zipping up the bag.  It wouldn’t help to dwell on it.  She had her grace back, and she was recovering, slowly but surely, and they were going to be headed home, and that was the important part. 

Squeezing her hand tightly, she smiled a little at the angel, feeling her worries slip away as she got a smile in return. “All right, then... Just... wait for my call, okay?”

Blue eyes shone happily as she nodded in return. “I'll be waiting...”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Green eyes watched as the demon appeared at the window, throwing the curtains open and quickly applying the sigils. He wondered what she was up to, his copper wings glinting in the early morning light. She'd been gone for a couple of days again, but there has been no sign of the fugitive celestial in all his searching. He knew that if he kept watching her, the demon would lead him right to her, and there would be no escape...

He could feel the sigils going up, one by one, blinding him to the immediate area surrounding the building. Hmmm, so the little rat knew she was being watched... Frowning, he wondered if perhaps he shouldn't widen his search when he saw it, at last... the flash of silver in the sky. The eyes of his vessel narrowed searching the clouds again. There it was again, quickly descending to the roof of the building.

A cruel smile glinted over his lips as he watched her land, the sigils hiding her from view again. There she was... Just as he thought...

The Inquisitor had come to roost.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The moment she landed, Wordsmith knew the quick jaunt had been almost too much.  She landed hard, stumbling and almost falling on her face before Wordsmith could catch her.  Tucking her phone back into her pocket, she took the angel’s uninjured arm and helped her inside as quickly as she could manage, her legs trembling as they almost fell down the stairs together.  Her wings fluttered tiredly once before drawing in tight and shrinking, another sure sign of how exhausted she had to be.  Frowning a little, she helped her down the hall and through the open door of the apartment, kicking the door closed and heading straight down the hall.

She made it a few steps before her phone buzzed angrily, making her groan a little.  To Hell with the King, she was busy.  It buzzed again as they limped towards the spare room, the angel against her side chuckling. 

“He’s pretty insistent today,” she said softly before she straightened up, yawning a little.  “Go on, Wordsmith...  I’ll be fine, just going to lie down and sleep a little.”  Her second yawn was bigger, almost drowning out her words as she tried to fight sleep.  “The sooner you go, the sooner you can get home and keep me company,” she added with a reassuring smile, plopping herself onto bed and flopping over.

Wordsmith fought an answering yawn as she returned her sleepy smile, smoothing her hair back gently.  “He can wait for a minute,” she said, leaning close to press a gentle goodbye kiss to the Cass’s lips.  She didn’t anticipate the hand that reached up to thread through her hair, holding her close as the angel deepened the kiss, though as she leaned over her, she couldn’t say she minded much.  When they pulled back for a moment to breathe, her heart raced in her chest as she silently begged,  _ask me to stay, just say the word, and I’ll call in..._  

Both angel and demon jumped when her phone buzzed again, Wordsmith swearing softly as Cass smiled a little, smoothing her hair again.  “Go ahead and get changed...  Don’t need him storming the castle just because you’re running late,” she added gently, nudging her up as she groaned, digging into her pocket to pull out her phone and check her messages, slipping out of the room to change. 

When she came back, hair brushed again and dressed in a fresh suit, she paused at the door to tell the angel something, a smile crossing her face.  Stepping up to the bed, she gently took hold of the blanket, tugging it up around the angel as she slept.  Kissing her temple gently, she murmured a soft, “Get some rest, Cass,” against her skin, getting a hum of approval in return before she snapped her fingers and disappeared.


	2. Chapter 2

Wordsmith swore under her breath when she finally managed to get home that night.  It was some time well after two in the morning, and as much energy as she’d had that morning in preparation for the angel’s return home, it had all left her by late afternoon. 

The king had been less-than-enthusiastic when he realized that the angel was, indeed, back.  In fact, he tried to keep her from her breaks and lunch, saying it was imperative that she stay put and attend this very-important meeting.  She’d had only one message from the angel all day after shooting her a quick update while she made Hell’s fastest coffee run, and all she got was a message about “I see why humans like bubble baths so much”, accompanied by a picture of what she could only assume were the Inquisitor’s feet poking out from a mountain of bubbles in what looked like her bathtub.

That picture sent a dozen different scenarios through her head, and while she was almost positive there was no chance any of them were true, it was enough to throw off for several long moments before the barista got her attention at last with her coffee order.  She didn’t care that she burned her tongue or that she couldn’t stop her heart from racing or that she had a permanent red tinge to her cheeks—it was so worth it to think about the angel waiting back at home for her...

Now, though, all the lights were off, the dishes cleaned and put away, and the flat was still as the grave as she kicked out of her shoes and shrugged off her jacket. Striding through the kitchen, she tugged her tie off, tossing it onto the little dining table before she headed down the hall, making a beeline for the angel's room when a soft sound stopped her.

Turning slowly, she opened the door to her own room, heart catching in her throat at the sight that greeted her. There, curled tightly into her bed, lay the angel, dark curls splayed over her shoulders where she was curled tightly into the covers, arms and back exposed as she slept soundly. Shining with their own light, her wings curled around her, rustling as she shifted in her sleep, almost as if to shield her as her nose wrinkled for a moment before she drifted off again. In that moment, it was like the last two weeks, the last month, were nothing but a dream. Letting out the breath she didn't know she was holding, she moved closer to the bed, quietly removing her suit before she climbed into bed with her angel, tugging the blanket over the angel the rest of the way and watching her struggle to wake up enough, only to watch her burrow closer and hold tightly to her, head resting on the demon's shoulder as if that's where she was meant to be.

Smiling down at Cass as she slept, Wordsmith settled in to get some rest, the feel of the angel's breath against her skin chasing her far into her dreams that night.

  
  


* * *

  
  


She woke a couple hours after Wordsmith left, curled tightly onto her old bed, and she spent several minutes wondering... trying to remember what parts she'd dreamt and what had really happened. She had almost convinced herself that she'd imagined warm lips on hers and teeth on her skin and murmured promises as she got out of bed to wash up, only to find herself facing the evidence that proclaimed otherwise. Staring at her reflection, she felt the flush as much as saw it as she eyed the love bites and teeth marks as she undressed. She took several minutes to look at them in the mirror, even turning to find a couple had followed the line of her back, down between her wings as they fluttered.

Biting her lip, she hesitantly touched one, a smile ghosting over her lips as she remembered, hot words and desperate groans that made her shiver. Feathers rustled before she pulled her gaze from the mirror, swallowing hard before she turned to the bath. Clean up first, that was most important. Not that she hadn't at the bunker, of course, but the warm water would help to chase away the aches from her rushed flight back home.

 _Home_... Heaven save her, but it felt good to think that and know it was true...

_Is that what she'll want though?_

The thought crept in before it was pushed aside. Of course Wordsmith wanted her there; she'd practically yanked her back home the moment she was well enough. How absurd...

_Practically asked a hundred times before, though... Why didn't she come then? Didn't even want to go to the bunker in the first place..._

Waving the words away, she headed into the kitchen to get something to eat. She didn't necessarily need it, but she couldn't continue restoring her grace, healing the sigils, _and_ feasibly maintain her vessel, so every little bit helped. A half-sandwich (cold, because she couldn't handle the looks the neighbors would give her when they came pounding on the door), and a small cup of tea later, her bath was ready. After a few moments of contemplation, she added bubbles, climbing into the tub and basking in the relaxing glory that was her very first real bubble bath.

About halfway through her soak, her phone went off, and she was almost embarrassed to admit how quickly she shot out of the tub to grab it. She smiled at the message, though it wasn't a happy one from Wordsmith, she was glad to hear something from the demon. Climbing back into the tub, she sent back a reply, snapping a picture and sending it along before her thoughts caught up to her. No response came for the longest time, and she let herself sink beneath the water as her face burned with embarrassment. She'd tried to be coy and flirty in her reply, but damn it all, she'd failed so miserably with her one terrible picture and lame message about enjoying her bath.

Snorting beneath the water, she sputtered and sat up, coughing and trying to breathe the soapy water back out of her nose, whimpering at the burning sensation. She was definitely not fond of things like this—human vessels were poorly designed—but such was her luck right now. Sighing as she ran a hand through her dripping curls, she caught sight of a new message, fumbling for the phone. She blinked, reading it a couple of times before the blush over her face deepened, a shy giggle escaping her before she quickly tucked the phone back away. Wordsmith was busy for the day, she knew that, and she would endeavor not to get her into any further trouble if she could help it...

After rinsing away the last of the bubbles, she slowly began the tedious work of drying herself. Her hair took the longest, the long ringlets seeming to drip for ages as she dried them with the towel. By the time she was done, her arms were tired and she was more than a little worn out. Hanging the towels so they could dry,she took her phone, slipping out of the bathroom. Her first instinct was to fetch some clothes and wait for Wordsmith to return, but as she strode out into the hall, she glanced over into Wordsmith's room, blue eyes falling to the bed, and she hesitated.

Looking around, as though something might've changed in the last few minutes and she wasn't alone, she blushed, slipping into the room. She would just take a moment, then she would go and get dressed and make some more tea and maybe watch a movie or something... Sitting on the edge of the bed, she grabbed the pillow, pulling it close, buying her face in the soft fabric, eyes drifting closed as she inhaled the demon's scent. Her fingers tightened on the pillow, her wings fluttering as she sighed softly. Just a few minutes won't hurt, she told herself, letting herself lie down as she slowly relaxed again.

Clutching the pillow tightly, she found her mind wandering as she drifted in and out of consciousness. _What am I doing back here? Can't possibly think this is going to end well..._

_I might still beat Galahad, she thought, though that didn't last long..._

_And what if I do? Eternity, bound to a demon? Of all the bad ideas I've ever had, that one probably takes the cake..._

_But it's Wordsmith... It... wouldn't be so bad..._

_If Heaven casts me aside, though... if I fall, and I'm not an angel anymore, will she still want me?_

You're _bound to_ her _... That's not necessarily true of_ her _..._

_She holds your deal—she'll be able to whatever she likes._

_She might even just hand you over to the king when she's bored of you..._

Her brow furrowed as she tugged the blanket around her sleepily, sniffling to herself. She couldn't stop the thoughts as she lay there, miserably praying for Wordsmith to return home soon so she could think of something else.

 _She's going to get bored pretty fast... You don't have any experience... And this vessel, all scarred and frail, how long until she doesn't find it appealing? Or maybe she'll want to add marks of her own, more... permanent ones..._ A shiver danced down her spine as she burrowed into the blankets at that thought.

_Not Wordsmith... she wouldn't..._

_She's a demon—do you really think she's incapable? Besides, if she hands you off to someone else, you won't have to worry about what she will or won't do—someone else will do far worse..._

She was dimly aware of the dip of the mattress, stirring a little as she felt someone tug the blanket around her. Blue eyes opened blearily to stare up at Wordsmith for a moment, taking in her soft smile and tired eyes, and her worries about the future slowly melted away. Moving closer, she pressed into Wordsmith's side, breathing in her scent as the warmth chased the voices away. The hand that caressed her hair silenced the doubts she had about her decision, eyes fluttering closed as she sighed happily. This was it... This was what she'd longed for, and she would rather be damned than let it go again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW in this section. <3

The soft press of lips against her skin made Wordsmith shiver, layers of sleep peeling away as her eyelashes fluttered with a murmur. Warm breath ghosted over her neck as she felt gentle hands trace along her ribs, over her hips and caressing her thighs before traveling upwards again. The warm weight over her shifted slowly downward, her breath catching at the feel of skin brushing gently over her own, the lips against her neck slowly trailing down, pressing kisses over the swell of one breast. Wordsmith's eyes opened as she gasped, one hand tangling in red-brown curls, the other grasping at the sheets around her as she trembled.

The angel's name was on her lips as she moaned at the feel of teeth grazing sensitive skin. There was something about biting that she liked, or was it the marking... She was a possessive bird, she thought to herself before her mind went deliciously blank, gasping as she arched into her touch.

Her silver wings spread around them, the feathers whisper-soft against her skin as she reached for one wing, caressing the place where skin and feathers met and drawing a low sound from the angel. Smiling at that small victory, she glanced down to watch the Angel as she drew one peak into her mouth, the chuckle lost in her moan at the angel's low hum. Another gasp escaped the demon as she felt fingers brush over her core, making her shiver as her eyes drifted closed.

Arching beneath the angel, she bit her lip, feeling the warmth that slowly coiled low in her belly. Those hands moved slowly and with purpose, almost lazy as fingertips caressed over her before pressing and teasing over her pearl. It caught her by surprise, toes curling as she tried to hold back, failing blissfully as she cried out her angel's name, fingers laced in her hair tightening as her hips rocked into her touch. Each wave struck her core making her shake, stars bursting behind her eyelids before she fell back to the bed, her climax leaving her shaking and breathless.

She lay in blissful silence for several long minutes as she slowly came to her senses, heart pounding in her chest and still breathing a little heavily as she managed to open her eyes. Glancing down, she felt a smirk lift the corners of her lips as she caught bashful blue eyes trying to hide behind those dark locks. Gently untangling her hand from her hair, she pushed those curls out of the angel's face, grinning at the blush that crept over those cheeks. “Well, good morning to you too,” she said, her voice a little husky still from sleep. “Can't say I was expecting that...”

Cass's blush deepened as she felt those fingers slide through her hair, biting her lip as she felt the blush creep down her face and neck. She didn't think she'd ever get used to being looked at with such... what? Fondness? Longing? Want? Were those things really there, or did she see them because she wanted them to be? All her doubts came flooding back from the day before, making her swallow heavily. She was a demon—she could easily be lying, misleading her...

Though, if she was being truthful with herself, she'd rather believe the lie, if it was... Smiling a little, she murmured, “I... just thought... it might be a nicer way to wake up...”

Wordsmith's answering chuckle made her heart race as she felt questing fingers tracing over her shoulder, sliding down to caress along her spine as blue eyes drifted closed. A breathless moan escaped her as she shivered, biting her lip to quiet the sounds that Wordsmith pulled from her, wings stretching lazily around them. _A little more, please_ , she almost gasped, barely holding herself back as she pushed a little into that touch.

The light scrape of nails made her cry out, trembling as she felt the fingers still in her hair tighten, pulling her up into a hungry kiss before tugging her into her arms before the world spun, falling back into the mattress as she found Wordsmith above her. Raven waves framed her face as the angel shivered at the look in her eyes, that wicked grin spreading across her lips before she dipped her head to capture her lips.

  


* * *

  


The lazy morning couldn't last forever, no matter how much Wordsmith wanted it to. Eventually, they got up, the angel making coffee and cleaning up the kitchen as the demon got ready for work. Freshly showered and pulling on a jacket, she met Cass in the kitchen, arms winding around her waist as she pressed a kiss to one shoulder, feeling the thrum of her wings just beneath her skin. Smiling gently, god when did she start going so soft? She simply held her angel, enjoying a few moments of silence as she filled the sink with soapy water. Glancing at the time, she sighed gently. She would have to leave for work soon and leave the angel alone again. But she would enjoy the time they had for now...

“Mmm, I think your return calls for a treat,” she said, earning a curious glance from the angel. Grinning in response, she caressed Cass's hair, kissing her shoulder again. “You like the pastries from the shop down the street, right? I'll be right back.”

“Do you have time?” Cass asked, eyes hesitant. “I don't want you getting in trouble for me...”

“I'll make time,” Wordsmith said, tugging on her shoes and making sure to tuck her phone into her pocket before leaning up to give the angel a gentle kiss, watching that calm expression wash over her face before she pulled away. “I'll be back soon, love.”

Blue eyes softened as she smiled back, nodding. “Okay, Wordsmith... Be safe, okay?”

Stealing one last kiss, the demon grinned before heading to the door. “When am I ever not?”

  


* * *

  


Green eyes watched the demon leave the residence and head down the street. She bore a grin, a look of triumph on her face for a few moments before the practiced mask slid into place, sunglasses hiding the unusual glint of her eyes. She thought they had won, and so she strode confidently through the street, as though she wasn't in any sort of danger now. While her flight hadn't been witnessed by others, he knew... He just _knew_ the Inquisitor was there, recuperating.

He couldn't feel her grace anymore, not like before when she simply hid in the bunker. No, she was more thoroughly shielded. He caught glimpses of her at the window once in a while, from the corner of his eye, but it was never for long, and his eyes couldn't focus on the building, his gaze sliding off no matter how hard he tried. Damn it all. The injured bird had been learning new tricks while she was in hiding from him. Galahad's frown deepened; either that, or she had gotten help. He snorted softly at that—the only angels that might take pity on her had long-since been dispatched, and the few on Earth would have known to steer clear of her.

Still, no matter. There was more than one way to drag the fledgeling from her hole.

He waited until the demon stepped into a small shop down the way, a little bakery. She spent little time browsing before she procured a few pastries, turning to the checkout line. Strange. The demon almost acted... normal. No matter. The unusual behavior of a single demon was of no consequence to him. Shaking his head, he shifted to just out of sight of the front door, watching the demon carry the bag, turning to head back to her building with her prize. She had almost passed him in his hiding place when he reached out to grab her hand covering her mouth and nose to keep her from smoking out before wrapping them both with wings that glinted copper in the early morning light.

With a beat of his wings, they were gone. The only witness to the disappearance was one frazzled shopkeeper across the way, who kept rubbing her eyes. Clearly, she hadn't seen what she thought she did. She couldn't have. But there, on the sidewalk, was the evidence, the dropped bag spilling the breakfast treats onto the concrete as passersby simply went around. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the demon gets kidnapped and it's up to the Inquisitor to save her, the angel finds an inner strength to protect what's hers.

Cass was starting on her second cup of coffee when she realized the time. Frowning, she checked her phone again, getting up to brush her hair again, putting it up for the day. Wordsmith had been gone an hour, and she was starting to worry... Taking a breath, she closed her eyes, shaking her head. No, it would do her no good to jump to conclusions. She probably got called in for an emergency—with the King, it wasn't that farfetched an idea. Sighing, she shook her head, straightening up first the kitchen, and then moving to the living room.

The books were still everywhere, making her smile a little as she started to sort them into stacks, returning some of them to the shelves, while many others, she couldn't find a place for. Her eyes caught the glimpse of the topmost shelf where she'd placed her own books, smiling as she gathered the few volumes the hunters had given her and adding to her collection. Surely, Wordsmith wouldn't mind if she kept a few of them out...

Stepping down from the stepladder after carefully dusting the shelves, she brushed her hand s over her long skirt, smoothing the soft green fabric. Not one of her favorites, she would admit, but it would do. She would change when it got closer to the time for Wordsmith to get home, idly wondering if she might get home in time to have dinner together... Not that she minded the long hours that Wordsmith kept, she had plenty to do to keep herself busy if she kept herself at it, but sometimes she quietly wished she didn't have to share her time with the King. (Well, if she was being truthful, she would've preferred not to share her with anyone, but really, that was selfish, and there was no way the King was going to part with her on that kind of level...)

She was just about to head down the hall, to ask the sweet old lady if she could get some help to try to make something nice for dinner, when her phone rang. It was a strange tune, one she couldn't put her finger on as she glanced at the blocked number. Frowning, she almost didn't answer it, finally sighing before she flicked it open. “Hello?”

“Where's my mouse?” a familiar voice barked, making her flinch as she pulled the mobile away from her ear with a frown. Great. Personal calls from the king now. How she was moving up in the world.

“Hello to you too,” she said dryly, switching ears as she rolled her eyes. She didn't have the patience for one of his tantrums right now, and she silently praised Wordsmith for hers, dealing with the King day after day. “I don't have her.”

“I know you've gone and swiped her again, and don't think I won't storm that building to pluck every feather from your wings—she has certain _obligations_ that she's to uphold!”

Then his words sank in, making Cass frown as she put the phone back to her ear. “Come again?” she asked, frowning. “Wordsmith left like... two hours ago and didn't come back from the bakery—I assumed she was with you.”

Silence met her words for a few moments as she could almost hear the thoughts ticking away in the King's head, the gears whirling a mile a minute. “She never showed,” he said after another minute. “I had assumed she'd gone and was going to take another _personal_ day when she didn't arrive for the meeting, and she's not answering.”

Shaking her head at that, she said, “No, she... she stepped out... was supposed to come right back...” Shaking her head a little, she tried to think, frowning as she tried to remember what she was wearing, grabbing her light jacket from the hall closet and pulling on her flats. “Don't worry, I'll send her along as soon as I find her.”

“And how am _I_ supposed to trust _you_?” Crowley snapped, almost betraying how bad this was starting to look for both of them.

“That's easy,” Cass said without thinking. “You don't.” With that, she hung up, grabbing her keys and locking the door before she shakily dialed Wordsmith's phone. _Pick up, please, pick up..._

  
  


* * *

  
  


The sound of her phone going off again made Wordsmith stir, lifting her head again as she tried to blink the blood out of her eyes. The chime was different this time, her eyes searching the gloom to find where Galahad still sat perched in his chair, practically haloed in the light that filtered through the patchy ceiling. He was staring at the screen, eyes curious. _Shit_ , she knew that tone. _Shitshitshit_...

“Curious,” he said, his voice soft as his thumb hovered over the green answer button. “It only took two hours for her to notice you were gone.”

 _Damn it, Cass,_ she prayed, closing her eyes tightly as she twisted her hands in the bindings, glaring at the devil's trap she'd been forced into. _Just stay inside, don't leave... don't leave..._

The phone chirped as the call went to voicemail, Galahad's smile grinning when no answering message came through. The phone had been quite active, messages from 'G' and 'C' and multiple calls from both, but no. Neither were the ones he had been waiting for. He quirked a brow when a message displayed on the screen— _Where are you???_ He was tempted to send a reply, but no, he would rather see her worry a bit longer... Another message right after— _Getting worried._

“Strange how long that took,” he said, green eyes falling to the demon, wrapped up tightly in rope and bound with spelled chains. “You two seemed... closer than that...”

Frowning, she leveled him with as dark a look as she could muster, spitting a mouthful of blood in his direction. It didn't get even remotely close to him—but the message got across well enough before she sneered at him. “Shows what you know,” she said, feeling a smile split her lip open again. “What's a couple of hours to an immortal? She probably started reading a book or counting the veins on a flower or something...”

“Point ignored,” Galahad said, turning back to the phone as it started to go off again. “Mmmm, she's a persistent one,” he said, smiling as he let it ring again and go to voicemail. “I wonder what she must think, her lover refusing to answer her calls, radio silence... I wonder if she's out of her mind with worry...” His smile widened as he seemed to think about that. “Such an adorable thought, an angel worried about a demon...”

 _If she's calling,_ Wordsmith thought, flicking her tongue over the split in her lip again, looking as bored as she could manage, _she's past worried..._ She took a moment to imagine the worry her bird would be going through—and for a split second, another image crossed her mind, the Inquisitor standing, all silver wings and tempered fury, and she had to fight the slight shiver that came along with that. As timid as Cass was, she didn't know if she was really ready to see that side of her just yet.

And then the phone started to ring a third time, and he hit the answer button. On speakerphone, she could hear the relieved sigh on the other end, and her eyes flashed red at the way Galahad's grin widened. Now she didn't care how it happened—she wanted Galahad dead for putting her through all of that. Kisses and counseling and smoothing of feathers would come later—she wanted Galahad lying broken in a pile of his own blood.

“Finally!” she heard, the angel's voice shaking just a little and making her heart leap as she strained against the ropes. “The King called me, I thought you'd been called in— _where are you?!_ ”

Galahad's low chuckle made her fall silent as he spared a glance to the demon in the corner. “I'm sorry, Inquisitor. The Wordsmith is a little... tied up at the moment...”

“Galahad,” she hissed, and Wordsmith could feel every hair on the back of her neck stand on end. There was ice in that tone, and she could almost hear the rustle of feathers, even from several feet away. “What have you done with Wordsmith?”

“Oh, now, Inquisitor,” he said, standing up to face the demon in question, “what sort of man do you take me for? Your little imp is sitting here with me—we couldn't very well get the party started without you...”

“You let her go, you slimy sycophant, or I will personally end you. And if you've harmed a hair on her head, I will throw you into the pit myself-”

“Are you really in a position to make demands?” Galahad said, grabbing the angel blade from the table, twirling it effortlessly between his fingers as he lazily strolled over to her, mashing the speakerphone button as green eyes fell on her. “Go ahead and say hello, little rat.”

Silence filled the warehouse for a moment, Wordsmith drawing in a slow breath before she heard, “Are you there, sweetie?”

She took a moment to find her voice, nodding a little before she said as evenly as she could, “Yeah, I'm here.”

“Did he hurt you?” she asked next, making Wordsmith chuckle a little. She'd been kidnapped and was being held hostage by a power-hungry angel, and the first thing her bird wanted to know was if she was all right. If she made it out of this alive, she would teach Cass how to prioritize...

“Nothing you can't kiss better after you take me home, love,” she said, grinning at the disgusted sneer that crossed Galahad's face before he took the call off speakerphone, pressing it to his ear again as he got this smug look on his face again.

“Happy now?” he started to ask, though the smirk quickly faded as the Inquisitor's voice dropped so low, Wordsmith couldn't make it out, even as she strained her ears.  


	5. Chapter 5

“Now you listen to me, you sorry excuse for a seraph,” Cass snarled into the phone, cutting off whatever sharp comment Galahad might’ve had at the ready. “You’re going to release Wordsmith this instant, and I’ll forget about this little transgression—do you understand me?”

However taken aback he might’ve been by her demand, he wasn’t silent for long, chuckling low.  “You, dear Inquisitor, are in no position to be making demands.  Besides, what’s a little rat to the great Inquisitor?  Sure, maybe she helps you scratch that… naughty little itch you get…”  her hand gripped the phone so tight, she offhandedly thought it might break under the strain.  “… but she’ll never really be worth anything….”

She took a deep breath, checking her own phone to see how long the call had been going on—she didn’t know how much longer she could keep him talking, and sit seemed to be taking forever.  Letting the breath out, she told herself, just a little more…

“Like you’re one to talk,” she said, continuing to make her way down the street.  It wasn’t far, if she remembered right, and as long as the other angels hadn’t actually cleared it out by now.  “You’ve never valued anything above your own ambitions, Galahad.  And you took no small pleasure in betraying your own brethren, myself included, when your plans were threatened.”

“If you had just kept your nose out of it,” he said, his tone dropping to something dripping with venom, “none of that would’ve happened. That was _none_ of your business!  And then you had to go and tell your little pet here!”  His words were punctuated with pained cries, her heart twisting in her chest.  He was torturing Wordsmith…  And it was her fault…  She had to bite her lip to keep from giving in as the cries faded to little gasps in the background.  “So really, if you want to blame someone, blame _yourself_ for dragging her into this mess.”  A pause, and then, “Besides, what do you think you could possibly have on me that could make me stop?”

A silent message popped up on her phone, making her breath catch. Coordinates.  God bless Guthrie—she would never have found them in time if he’d said no…  Though all it took was a few quick words, mostly “Wordsmith”, “kidnapped”, and “please”, followed by a dozen thank-yous and one “You will owe a lot for this”.  She read them over, memorizing them before she gave a long, slow smile, wings spreading wide.  “You know…  When an angel’s grace is restored,” she said, “it’s more than just getting one’s wings back, and their grace…  But also their memories.”  She paused a moment, relishing in the silence that met her words on the other end.  “And I remember… an awful lot…”

His sputtered argument was cut short as she hung up the phone wings snapping open wide.  The brief blip to her hidden armory only took a few seconds, pulling the doors open as blue eyes adjusted to the darkness around her.  It was a carefully hidden little building, warded against the sight of angels and behind barriers no demon could cross—and protected with age-old spells to keep humans from wandering through.  Which was just as well, she had more than a few nasty weapons hidden away that she didn’t trust even the most pious soul in heaven with…

She relaxed as she opened a dusty chest, eying the blades she found there.  Ah, yes…  Now she remembered why she’d wanted to keep them all…  Memories of vast battlefields, of great and terrible armies laid waste before the troops, and she had been in the middle of it all.  Being a nobody on the battlefield afforded itself a kind of anonymity among her fellow soldiers—but she remembered standing as a general, as the leader of her own small team, and they had been glorious in victory…  Inquisitor, Executor, a small handful of highly trusted scouts, and one or two minor officers to head the field operations…

But that was a long time ago, she reminded herself, a different age entirely, when angels were actually honorable and everything seemed so much… simpler.  Sighing to herself, she reached through and digging out not just the small, compact weaponry, but a pair of the longer, heavier blades.  They were larger, almost unwieldy in comparison with the thinner, lighter blades they used now, but they were also heavily runed, an art that had been lost to the armies of heaven over the ages.  Even now, holding the hilts in her hands after centuries of sitting and gathering dust, she could feel the thrum of energy moving beneath her fingers…

Glancing back into the chest, she pulled out one final thing, a special bolt of fabric.  Her eyes followed the line of it, fingers feeling for any weaknesses, wear or tears in the cloth before slowly unraveling it. It had been an age since she’d donned this as well…  And this was as good a time as any to pull it back out.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Whatever Cass had said, it had Galahad shaking, throwing the phone to the ground and watching it shatter as he took several shaking breaths. Wordsmith couldn't help the grin that spread across her face, barely biting back the laugh that bubbled up in her chest. Whatever she was up to, Galahad was sensing the end was coming, and she couldn't help feeling so damn relieved to know she would soon be out of these bonds and free again.

Then he turned his attention to her, copper wings glinting red and dangerous in the sunlight, and her mirth died on her lips. _Shit_. She was out of time. As he started to approach her again, she closed her eyes tightly, struggling against the ropes holding her as she fervently prayed.

_Cass, hurry!_

The words had barely registered in her mind before she felt it. The breaking of the devil's trap. She wasn't about to stop and ask questions—she could find out what happened _after_ she was safely away. Wasting no time clicking her fingers, desperate to be away from the angry angel.

She didn't go far, just enough to get out of the warehouse. Barn. Whatever—a building in the middle of nowhere that looked ready to fall down at any moment. Her eyes scanned the building, trying to feel for Cass's grace. She was so sure she'd felt it, that familiar cool burn on the very edge of her subconscious, but right now she felt...

Nothing.

Biting her lip, she stared anxiously at the building before, with a soft curse, she started to get close again. She just needed a peek, just a glimpse of Cass, and then she would book it back to safety...

She felt Cass's grace for a millisecond before it collided hard with Galahad's, and in the dark of the structure, she could see them, haloed in a bright light to rival the sun. Cass was over Galahad, almost as though she was suspended in midair, her wings flung wide around her. Twin blades glinted in her hands, catching and reflecting the light of the angels' adverse grace. Where Cass's was a cool but steady burn, Galahad's was white-hot and intense, spiking as he lashed out at Cass's downward stroke, catching and deflecting the blow as though it was child's play.

While the clash looked like nothing at all, Wordsmith could feel it, like a punch to the gut that knocked her to her knees just before the shockwave hit that sent her sprawling on her back in the dirt. Coughing hard, she tried to catch her breath, taking a moment to lie there as she shook a little, trying so very hard not to think about how she so narrowly escaped that with most of herself in tact.

The sound of the barn falling down made her sit up, pushing her hair out of her face as she wiped the almost dried blood from her chin, red eyes scanning the empty field for the angels.

She didn't have long to wait, diving out of the way as they barreled past, silently cheering as she caught a glimpse of Cass sending Galahad crashing to the ground. The small victory was short-lived, though, as the blonde angel got to his feet, nostrils flaring angrily as he wrestled his torn jacket and singed tie off, throwing them away. His eyes glowed a dangerous shade, like emeralds fashioned into daggers, his gaze falling to her as Wordsmith scrambled to get back up, to get out of the way. Damn, she should've run, should've left this to Cass—but she couldn't leave her, not against him like this. No, she couldn't risk letting her fall alone again...

“Galahad!” a familiar voice cried, making him turn as his wings spread, copper-red in the last of the sunlight as it disappeared behind a wall of clouds. Green eyes scanned the field for a moment, his glower darkening as his eyes fell on her. He was bleeding from numerous small scratches, a few over his face, his arms, but his grace was healing them faster than she could inflict them, whereas Cass was bleeding freely from one scratch above her right eye. She huffed, trying to ignore the stinging pain as she wiped the blood away, striding towards him with careful purpose.

Wordsmith's eyes fell to Cass, her breath catching in her throat. The sight was more than anything she might've imagined—the dark metal of her armor pieces shining like some abyssal knight rather than an angel from Heaven. She threw the broken hilt of one sword aside, switching hands with the remaining runed-blade before drawing a shorter, thinner knife from somewhere under the plate covering her thighs. Every piece was etched with spellwork that she could feel, even from this distance. Lightning flashed overhead, thunder rumbling right after as the wind caught her cloak. Her hair was up, her eyes glinting a fierce blue as she stared Galahad down. As she walked, the plates of her shinguards clinked, the hollow sound ringing through the air as she felt Cass's grace flare again.

If this was the might the Inquisitor wielded... Maybe they would be fine...

“This ends _now_ ,” she said, her voice commanding as she approached him, weapons at the ready. Something in her tone made Wordsmith shiver and shrink back instinctively—every fiber of her being was screaming at her to run away, to get out from between the warring angels, but she wanted to stay right where she was.  This was the Inquisitor, just one facet of the angel she’d fallen for, and if she never got the chance to see this side of her again, she wanted to witness this.  She took a deep breath, watching them as her heart pounded in her chest, praying fervently to a god she hadn’t believed in for the longest time for her angel to come out of this safely...

Galahad snarled and sprang into action as he drew his arm back to swing at her...


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter of Storm.

A swift turn and block diverted Galahad's blade, Cass's expression grave as she braced for the fight.  They clashed in a shower of sparks and grace, green eyes wild as blue eyes blazed in return.  The movements of the angels were so fast, she had trouble following each strike, especially as they took their battle to the skies.  The air crackled with energy as Inquisitor and Executor crashed together time and again,  bloodied copper wings striking silvered steel. 

She looked like she might have the upper hand for a moment, until the edge of his blade caught her arm, making her cry out as tears fell down her face. She clutched at her arm, her grace flaring up to heal it, the color draining from her face as her wings faltered for a moment, dropping a few feet before she caught herself. That was the first time she realized that things were going very, very badly. Her heart hammered in her chest as she tried to stem the flow of grace to her wounds—sure, they were painful, but she could handle a cut or two—if she got grounded before taking Galahad down, she would be a sitting duck.  Her vessel wasn’t going to hold out very long, her grace still trying to patch her up inside as she began to slow down, struggling to push Galahad back again and again as he frantically struck at her, the blade leaving wicked-deep gashes along her arms and legs as she tried to turn away, to put some distance between them with some hope to buy a little time, drawing another hidden blade as she struggled to inflict some kind of damage on him...

His foot came out of nowhere, catching her off-guard and striking her hard in the gut. Air left her lungs in a woosh, darkness overwhelming her as she struggled to keep in the air before she started to fall, choking for breath. The Inquisitor was already unconscious before she hit the ground and didn't even feel the impact of the ground suddenly beneath her, stopping her descent.

She came to in a crater, trembling all over as she sucked in great, heaving breaths. Blue eyes opened to watch the clouds roil in the sky, threatening rain. She simply lay there, broken and bleeding, and she couldn't seem to gather the energy to get up again.  _ I'm going to die _ , she thought quietly to herself, ears pricking at the edges of her eyes.  _ All that fight, all those months of hiding, of struggling, and I'm going to lose, just like that. _ Her arms felt heavy, her gauntlets weighting a ton as she felt her vessel's muscles protesting. She could barely feel her wings, twisted and rumpled under her—but damn, they hurt the most. She could tell at least one of her ribs was cracked, and there might've been no small amount of bleeding going on...

_ Internal bleeding _ , she thought offhandedly, slowly managing to sit up,  _ that's where the blood's supposed to be, right? ... Wait... no... internal bleeding... that's... that's bad...  _ Just as she managed to kneel shakily, the clouds opened up around her, pouring down rain as she struggled to blink back the tears that clouded her vision. Swearing softly, she tried to get to her feet, determined to finish this battle as she reached for the buckles of her gauntlets.  _ Have to shed some weight... _

The cold bite of Galahad's blade made her still, wings slowly straightening themselves and tucking behind her as she lifted her gaze. Blue eyes met furious emerald, making her swallow thickly.

_All that effort, and I'm going to die like it didn't even matter..._

  
  


* * *

  
  


As soon as she saw Cass fall, Wordsmith ran towards her, ignoring the rain that poured down around her. A hundred yards away now, so close. She wanted to shout for the angel, to tell her to hold on, but a rumble of thunder drowned out the sound. Still, she pressed on—she could see Cass getting up now, though she was sluggish and shaking, drenched from the rain. She saw her unhook one gauntlet, the armor and glove starting to fall away as she stilled, a flash of lightning illuminating the angel that stood over her. His smile was nothing short of feral, and he was holding his blade against her cheek, the tip sparking as it dug into her skin. Blood welled up around the blade's tip, traveling down her face with the rainwater as she knelt before him, blue eyes wide as her wings folded against her back.

Cass was afraid. It was written in her face, shining in her eyes, the way tears pooled there, the way her hands shook as she struggled to keep as still as possible.

The very sight of it made her want to break Galahad's wings herself.

So focused was she on running towards the angel, she almost didn't see the sword. Stumbling as she tried to keep her footing, she reached for it, grabbing the hilt and pulling it from where it had embedded itself in the ground. Cassandra's blade, she realized—she must've dropped it when she fell. Lifting it, she found it awkward and heavier than it needed to be—but if she was understanding the spellwork on it, it would do more than a little damage to the pigeon.

“This is the last time,” Galahad hissed, slowly dragging the tip of the angel-blade across her cheek, listening to her hiss at the sparks, blood running down along her chin now, “that you will interfere with my plans, Inquisitor. You were never good at following orders...” Raising his blade, he savored the look in those eyes, the way she knelt in the mud, helpless...

“ _Move, Cass_!” he heard, turning as a familiar sword swung upward. The blade caught one wing, slicing through it like a hot knife through butter as he gave a piercing, inhuman cry. Before she could bring the blade back down on him, he whirled to face her, murder in his eyes as he swung the blade at her making her deflect as she took careful, measured steps backward.

“You filthy little _rat_!” he bellowed, lunging for her and catching her side, the blade slicing through her suit and jacket, making her flinch at the blade's bite—damn, Cass had the right idea with the chainmail shirt... “You _dare_ rise up against _me!_ _You_ , who are not _worthy_ to crawl upon this earth!” He gave another swing of the shorter blade, Wordsmith managing to parry with one hand as she reached for the hilt of his, letting her momentum carry her right into his side as she tried so hard to disarm him. Galahad growled, holding tightly to his weapon, shoving her hard with his remaining good wing, turning to strike her down as she stumbled away.

A heavy gauntlet came out of nowhere, striking the back of Galahad's head with a heavy clunk, sending him stumbling. Cass was on him before he could recover, kicking hard at the back of one of his legs, sending him to his knees. Before he could recover, she drew back her remaining gloved hand, throwing as hard a punch as she could manage, the metal singing in the rain as it connected solidly with the back of his head.

Galahad sprawled in the mud, stunned for a moment before he rose up again. The rain was the only sound, save the sound of her heart hammering in her chest, the metal of her armor ringing with each drop as she reached up, unclasping her cloak, eyes darkening before she looked at Wordsmith, mouthing, “Go,” as Galahad turned on her. Wiping the water and mud from his face, his grace welled up to the surface, realigning bone and stitching skin together like nothing had happened.

Green eyes narrowed as he watched her fall into fighting stance, blue eyes flashing with light as lightning streaked the sky, silver wings snapping wide. The angels stood still in the rain, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

Smiling at whatever it was he saw there, Galahad called out over the rumble of thunder, “Give it up, Inquisitor! It's over!”

“It will never be over!” she cried in return, expression grim. “So long as I breathe, you won't stop hunting me!”

“If you give up,” he countered, “then I'll have no reason to hunt you.”

“You'll never take me,” she said, her voice thrumming with promise as she pinned him with a look. “This is my choice, brother! Let me make it!”

“Never,” he hissed, lunging forward. He only barely saw the punch coming, catching it and countering with a back-sweep of the blade, the contact with her chainmail sending up a shower of sparks. “Give up! You've failed in this, as you've failed in all things!”

“I've... _never_... _failed_!” she shouted, punctuating each word with a powerful jab. Each one resonated in his grace, his vessel feeling the blows most acutely as she struck hard and fast each time. He tried once to get an arm around her, getting a sharp elbow to the throat that echoed jabs of pain along his grace, stumbling back. “I was not the one that betrayed Razael!” she bellowed at him, looking down her nose at him as she snarled, “I did as my master ordered back then, and to this day, I do _nothing_ else!” Lightning flashed again, illuminating her armor and glinting over the edges of her remaining gauntlet as she dealt him blow after blow, using her grace to back each strike and do as much damage as she could.

Falling back into the mud, Galahad gasped for breath, the blade falling from his hand before she kicked it away, pressing her boot against his throat. Over the toe, a sharp edge like a claw pressed against his throat, the vulnerable place where an angel's grace, their very life-force dwelt. Swallowing, Galahad stared up at Cass, seeing the unearthly light that filled and surrounded her, and it was as though no time had passed, and they were there on that ancient battlefield, his commander standing over him as she leveled him with that steely look.

Cass... no. The  _ Inquisitor _ faced a choice of grave consequences. 

“Don't do this,” he rasped softly, flinching at the way her boot pressed into the skin, the sharp edge of the blade threatening to open the skin there. “You're... you wouldn't... You're better than this...”

The smile on her face sent shivers down his spine as she pressed harder, letting the blade bite there. “I am better... however much I wish I wasn't...”

The soft ring of a blade drew his attention, the edge of the runed sword pressing against his cheek as he looked up, lips pursing together. Wordsmith grinned at the sight, reaching into her jacket to pull out a pen-knife, twirling it between her fingers. “Fortunately, pigeon,” she said, “I'm not...”

 


End file.
